


Snatching Defeat From The Jaws Of Victory

by TheBlueMistress



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-23
Updated: 2020-01-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:35:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22376557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBlueMistress/pseuds/TheBlueMistress
Summary: Some words haven't yet been said between Severus and Minerva. But when time is running out, will these two say them, or will they remain unspoken?
Relationships: Minerva McGonagall/Severus Snape
Comments: 3
Kudos: 23





	Snatching Defeat From The Jaws Of Victory

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own anything, all of the characters belong to JK Rowling. I promise I will return them save and sound when I am ready with them. Or as close to save and sound as I can, at least.
> 
> I think you’ll all realise when you start reading this is the first story I ever wrote, in 2007. I’d like to believe my writing has evolved since then.

**Snatching Defeat From The Jaws Of Victory**

It had been a cold night some years ago. She did not want to remember it. Still haunted by the pain it caused, she would rather forget. But they were the one thing that remained now, the memories. So she gave in, letting her mind wander back, knowing she would find some sort of comfort in his last words.

The moon and stars were obscured by clouds. The wind blew from the north, it seemed. But Minerva couldn't care less. The only thing she wanted, was this battle, this war, to be over. The faces of the ones who had lost their lives today, trying to defend their kids, their husbands or their family, were innumerable. It had to stop. She felt her famous Gryffindor courage fail her, and a few tears trailed a pad down her cheeks.

But there was no time for tears; she needed to fight. She had to make sure no more people were hurt if she could prevent it.

Her robes were covered with mud and blood. She had an ugly bruise on her left cheek, and a cut in the palm of her hand. But her courage had returned, as well as the determined look in her green eyes. She scrambled up from the ground, were she had fallen after a blast from a rather nasty hex. Tightening the grip on her wand, she proceeded to the midst of the battle; he would be there to. She knew that. He always was there when it got rough, because he was needed at those times. Others never knew, because they were too angry with him. He defended his former colleagues whenever he could, although he understood they hated him anyway.

But she didn't. She never had. She had been there when he needed her. She had listened without asking questions. It might have been her Gryffindor side, or her courage, or just because she was a warm person. Deep down, he had always known it had been because of the fact she never judged a person when she didn’t believe their intentions to be clear. Or maybe, a tiny voice spoke once, it was because she knows you better than all the others! Maybe she understands you couldn't have done it if it hadn't been ordered from you.

By this time, she had reached her destination. But he was not where she expected him to be. She scanned the environment, but could not even catch a glimpse of his black cloak. She ducked two hexes and continued her search. Minutes passed. And in her mind, every minute was one too many. He could already be dead, her mind screamed. But she chose not to believe it. He was strong; he would be fighting somewhere. And even if he was hurt, he would be okay when he was looked at by Poppy, or someone else.

A group stood at the side of the battle. In the distance she heard cheers, and laughs, and yelling:

“He's dead, Voldemort is dead!”

But instinctively, she made her way over to the group between the trees. Her heart told her it was him. Who else would lie there; no-one made an attempt to help.

She ran the last meters and fell down on her knees. His face was paler than she had ever seen it. his eyes were closed, and a bit of blood ran from the side of his head. She wiped it away. He stirred at her touch, and slowly opened his eyes.

'M…Minerva…'

His voice was dry, and barely more than a whisper.

“Yes, Severus. It's me.”

She entwined her fingers with his and wiped away the hair on his forehead. He seemed to relax a bit. His facial expression softened, but his breathing became more and more laboured. She looked around frantically, but couldn't find Poppy anywhere.

“Don't bother, Minerva. I'm dying.”

His steady voice startled her. Despite his injuries, he was in control of the situation.

“Severus, I can’t leave you like this. You won't die! I won't let you!”

Those last word shocked the living daylight out of everyone in a two meter radius.

“I knew you would… say… something of the sort…”

he had to pause than, because he couldn't breathe anymore.

“You… always to kind for me. I… don't deserve… your help…” he finally said, his face screwed up in pain.

“You do deserve it Severus! And you know why? Because I love you. Always have, and always will. Please, Severus! Let me try to help you.”

“Can't… help me… Lost cause… Nothing can stop the spell…”

His eyes closed, and his grip on Minerva's hand weakened.

“I… love you… too…” he choked.

Then, his eyes closed one final time. Minerva was crying, not paying any more attention to the people surrounding the two of them. She lay down her head, and listened to the last beat of his heard. Remus Lupin placed a hand over her shoulder, and softly whispered:

“Come on. Severus wouldn't want you to sit here until you catch a cold. You need to get away from here…”

But Minerva refused to let go of Severus's hand. Remus said:

“For him who fought and died for us, is now a time to mourn.  
He will be honoured as a King, who once has lost his crown.  
We will always remember his actions and his words will stay with us,  
but for one present here, that will not be enough.”

Minerva turned to him now, and he enveloped her in his arms. Together, they looked at his pale face one last time. It was now free of regrets and sorrow. But most importantly, free of pain.

It had been a cold night some years ago. Minerva hadn't been willing to remember it. She had not been willing to remember the night she snatched defeat from the jaws of victory.


End file.
